Naruto Fan Fiction ❯ Insanity Calling ❯ Insanity Calling ( One-Shot )

Insanity Calling

My room is so quiet, so empty. Silence echoes of the bare white walls and reminds me. Reminds me of many things.

The room is clean, the bed made and the covers smoothed down perfectly. Untouched. Thin white curtains block out the sun and heat the rages, threatening to pour in and burn me whenever I pull back the shades. A single lamp stands in the centre of a small table by the bed while a large wooden wardrobe stands solidly by the closed door. Closed, how it will stay.

I sit in the centre of the room, feeling out of place in the clean, white space. I am not clean, I am dirty, despite how hard I scrub at my skin, the dirt will not come off. Not dirt, blood.

I tilt my head to stare down at my hands, hands that have not touched another for many years, and yet they have killed. They will kill until we are satisfied. But I will not be satisfied for a very, very long time.

A high pitched giggle bounces around the room and I wonder where it comes from. It takes me a minute to realize that it is mine. The sound cannot escape; it is as if I am cut off from the rest of the world, confined and alone in this room until I am needed. But I am not alone. I grin wildly. I will never be alone. Never.

The air in the room is stale and warm, it tastes metallic. It tastes of something I know, but I cannot remember, for it has been awhile since I last tasted it. Absently, I reach behind me, gently, reassuringly touching the large object strapped to my back. It feels coarse and grainy beneath my touch, I giggle again. I remember what it tastes of now, it tastes of blood.

I trail my fingers over the rough surface of the object, finding a slightly raised section. Massaging the area, I come something round and hard. I close my eyes briefly before I gently pull the object out.

Something equally course and grainy, something warm slides over my skin. Circling around my neck and arms tenderly, lovingly. "Hello, Mother." I whisper, "Do you feel better now?" The sand strokes my cheek, I lean into its touch. "That's good." I reply, "I am glad."

I reach down and into the small pouch held at my thigh, withdrawing a sharp object. It too is metallic. "You will protect me, won't you mother?" My other hand is faced palm upwards; unblemished skin is cold, yet heated. Raising the Kunai, I slowly draw the blade across my skin. Sand curves up and snakes across the area where there should have been a wound, blocking the blade so that I am uninjured. More sand flickers and curls around the weapon's handle, tugging it easily out of my grip and tossing it across the room. The Kunai hits the wall then fell the floor, motionless. "Yes, you will always protect me…" I whisper sadly.

Slowly, I stand and walk to the door, the sand with me. "Come mother." I place my hand on the door, "Come and sing for me…"

[They don't know that you can't leave me, they don't hear you singing to me…]